


Alone Together

by OnlyZouzou



Series: I misinterpreted this [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy & Echo fight, Canon Compliant, Episode: s06e04 The Face Behind the Glass, F/M, Jealous Bellamy Blake, Missing Scene, POV Bellamy Blake, Season/Series 06, misinterpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZouzou/pseuds/OnlyZouzou
Summary: 604 - a dive into Bellamy's mind at the party - a little bit of Cillian (sorry) and a little bit of Echo (because it's canon-compliant)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Echo, Cillian/Clarke Griffin
Series: I misinterpreted this [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674193
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Alone Together

I don't want to be at this party.

However, I do know why I forced myself to come.

Because we must honor the customs of Sanctum. Because we have to integrate. Because we have to show that we are involved. Because we need to make them understand what kind of model citizens we will be.

What I don't know, on the other hand, is why I'm staying so long.

The music is too loud, the lights too bright, the people too loud and too many. Every place my eyes are looking at reminds me of something I don't have, something I've lost, something I've given up.

People are too well dressed and I didn't go so far as to put on a decent outfit. I kept on me the clothes I wore when I came out of cryo three days earlier. I didn't even have time to sew up the hole in my right thigh caused by Clarke's knife wound.

Drinks and food are plentiful, but I am neither hungry nor thirsty. I know what effect alcohol has on me, so I almost never drink it, and my appetite is cut off by what I had to do less than 24 hours earlier.

In a corner of the castle's large reception room, a group of young girls is dancing, jumping and smiling. Their relaxed and bouncing silhouettes are reminding me of my sister at the same age. Their whirlwinds are taking me back to that other celebration, that one where everything changed. Their chuckling is breaking my heart while Octavia's young and frail laughter resonates in my memories.

I remember the last time I attended such an event - an official celebration organized in every detail and supervised by adults, not the kind of messy and debauched rave Jasper used to launch at the brink of the end of the world.

The last time I was at such a celebration, in the space of a solar flare, my whole life had changed. I had lost everything in a split second. My guard post. My sister. My mother. Everything.

Isn't that one of my biggest regrets? If I hadn't insisted on taking Octavia to the party, my mother wouldn't have died, my sister wouldn't have been sent to detention, wouldn't have been chosen to be one of the 100. I would have stayed on the guard. I would never have tried everything to save a single person. I wouldn't have shot the chancellor. I wouldn't have known the war that caused dozens of young people to die at the hands of the Grounders. Everything would have been different.

_Would I even have survived the landing of the Ark on Earth? Would I be here today?_

I shake my head as I feel tears flowing down my eyelids. I won't let them sink. I will not allow anyone to break through my barriers and see my weaknesses, especially not when I know that the leaders of Sanctum and other Primes are also at this celebration and are surely watching us.

My gaze finally falls on a lighter vision, although also full of strong emotions, which Jordan and Delilah are dancing languidly together in the middle of the dance floor. The bubble around them looks so solid. Nothing seems to break it. They are enjoying losing themselves in each other. Their eyes never leave one another, except when their lips meet and unite before separating with big smiles. I know that, wherever they are, Monty and Harper must smile too, thankful for their son's happiness.

A slight quiver stretches my lips and I find myself smiling, too. I didn't think I could manage it yet. I do not regret my decision to leave Octavia alone in the woods. I know it was the best thing for everyone to do. She was a danger to herself, to others, and to our chances of survival in this world.

However, not regretting it doesn't mean that I don't feel anything. It will take me several days, maybe weeks, to recover. If I ever recover. What is certain is that I am not yet able to face the storm of resentment that is roaring inside me. I'm not yet able to make amends.

Suddenly, I watch Delilah grinning at something behind Jordan's shoulder, then diverting her lover's attention to someone who has just arrived. I am so lost in the ease and candor of their interactions, that it takes me several moments to also look up at what they both now look at with admiration.

_Clarke..._

But I only have one second to grasp the golden sheen of her hair, one second to see the sapphire glow of her irises and the surprise mixed with amazement of her expression as she looks into the hall, that she is already gone, pulled forward by a man I recognize as the doctor who, with his snake, had cured Murphy.

_Cillian_

I don't want to remember his name, but that's the way it is. Until I feel safe in this so-called "sanctuary", I will have to remember their names, count their guards, visualize the emergency exits as soon as I enter a room.

I struggle to keep calm, I know how much Clarke needs our relationship with the people of Sanctum to go well, but that doesn't stop me from keeping an eye on her to make sure she's safe.

The premise of the smile that was on my lips a minute ago gets a little bigger when I see her own grin through the crowd. Her blue dress underlines each one of her curves, the very curves I try not to look at. She glows and I am overwhelmed. If anyone deserves a little happiness, it's Clarke. I can't imagine what she went through for 6 years on Earth with Madi, but I don't think it's always been a picnic.

My smile fades immediately when I see her hands binding with the doctor's before her arms come to circle his neck. The look she gives him then takes all the heat from my body while the embers of her blue eyes ignite her partner's.

And suddenly, his own hands are everywhere, first on her back, then on her hips. She laughs when he makes her spin, then closes her eyes when he puts her against his chest, his forearm pinning her all against him. He puts his other palm against her stomach, possessive and suddenly the air disappears from my lungs and I shudder in this icy atmosphere, unable to do anything, to say anything or to catch my breath.

I watch Cillian as he leans his face into Clarke's blond hair, then into the hollow of her neck as she sways against him in her night blue dress and I feel my heart suddenly pulsing into my chest and resounding at my eardrums. The heat comes back, brutal and stifling, makes my whole being vibrating, makes my hands trembling until I clench them in determined fists.

I know I have no right to feel that way. Besides, I don't want to name the feelings which are trying to overtake me when I'm at the very lowest. To survive, I have to think with my head, not my heart. This is the motto I have been repeating myself for the past six years ( more or less 125 years), it has worked until now, so why do I have the feeling that it has faded and escaped me since our return to Earth?

Prisoner of the storm that is raging within me, I keep my eyes fixed on Clarke and Cillian dancing among the crowd. The outside world disappears during those seconds that seem hours and my heart keeps beating, my hands keep shaking, time keeps stopping until...

**"Hey."**

_Echo._

The few steps that are taking me away from the dance floor and getting closer to her are both a torture and a huge relief. I even have trouble looking away when she asks me, suddenly worried:

**"What's wrong?"**

It' s only when she says the words that I realize the tears that have been silently running down my cheeks for probably several minutes.

**"Last time I was at a party, my sister got arrested."**

It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either, and I hate it. I hate not being honest with her. However, what more could I say to her and how could I explain my inner torment when I am unable to put words on it myself?

**"Bellamy, if you're going to tear yourself apart, then let's just go get her."**

She will never know how much this sentence echoes in me. To what extent I can associate these words with the two situations that cause me to tear myself apart. But it' s not that simple and suddenly, in front of this unfairness that I can no longer bear, anger prevails.

**"This is not me tearing myself apart, this is me being human. Feeling things when the people I love are in trouble, or die. The Echo I knew on the Ring did that too. Why don't you?"**

Her face remains unmoved despite the harsh words I am throwing to her and my anger grows even stronger.

**"That's not about me," she says.**

She's right, but she's wrong. It's not about her, it's about me. It's about the people that life keeps taking away from me. My friends, my family, Octavia, Clarke... Clarke dancing with Cillian. Cillian putting his hands and lips where I dreamed of putting mine for so long, even when I thought I had lost her, even when the end of the world was threatening, as far as I can remember. Clarke, who knows and has always known what words to say, what gestures to have towards me so that I immediately feel reassured, comforted, supported... Clarke whose emotions are always so pure, so true, so raw when she speaks to me and shares her thoughts with me without ever having an ulterior motive. Echo is right, but she is also wrong. It's about her too, in a way.

**"No? We lost Harper and Monty three days ago! How does that make you feel? Because I have no idea."**

Her silence is the only answer I need.

**"I lost my sister yesterday. It's going to take me a little while not to feel anything... Like a good Azgeda spy. But I'll keep trying."**

I don't see what impact my last words have on her. I already know what her expression will be: cold and impassive as if nothing was reaching her and nothing was hurting her. Maybe I'm basically jealous of this ability to compartmentalize? Jealous of the power she has over her own emotions while mine is swirling and shaking inside me, unruly under the seemingly smooth and peaceful surface of the face that I present every day to the rest of the world.

From the corner of my eye, I see her swallowing before nodding her head painfully. I see her turning her back on me and walking slowly, down, towards the exit of the ballroom and already, remorse is eating me up and I know that in a few minutes or hours, I will find her, I will go get her and ask her for forgiveness, because she doesn't deserve to be the target of my wrath.

On the dance floor that I continue to observe, Clarke and Cillian are gone now and I try not to think about where they are, or what they are doing. I try not to think, not to feel.

And even if I just fail, again and again, I will keep trying.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my birth language, I'm doing the best I can, I hope it's enough


End file.
